Rackam, First-Rate, Read, and I went aboard the vessel and were confronted by a man in official uniform, with many medals and ribbons festooned ’cross his chest. He was a Spaniard with a long, flowing mustache and an air of supreme arrogance, despite his ship having just submitted. He spoke English well but with a trace of an accent, one that may have been almost undetectable had we been unaware of his background and the colors that his ship flew. He strode toward us in long, insolent strides.
“Is there any among this rabble with authority to have dialogue with me?” he said, in a voice that dripped with condescension.
Rackam stepped forward out of our number.
“I am captain of this vessel.”
“The great Calico Jack Rackam,” said the man, executing an extravagant bow.
Rackam nodded and ignored the affront in the man’s tone.
“Your countrymen have promised a reward to the man who brings you in that you might dangle at the end of a yardarm,” said the man.
“You’re not the man to bring this man in,” said First-Rate.
“And who is this that dares address me?” said the man. “The traitor who left his commission in the Royal Navy to take up with pyrates? I speak not to traitors or dogs of any sort!” The man then spewed forth poisonous vitrolic words at the Judaic religion of First-Rate.
At that, First-Rate started to draw his sword, but Rackam stayed his hand.
“What is your rank?” said Rackam to the Spaniard.
The man smiled.
“I am the captain of this vessel, financed by proprietors in Madrid, and bound for a port in Cadiz.”
“Her course will now be our decision,” said First-Rate.
“Governor Rogers said you were boastful men,” said the Spanish Captain. “He neglected to mention that you were also impertinent.”
“You conversed with Rogers?” asked First-Rate.
“Oh, my dear, damn’d, dirty traitor. Your presence in these waters is well known,” said the Spanish Captain. “Did you think we would allow you to take us so easily? Know this: you will be pursued until you are caught. Rogers knows where you are, and what you have done. He means to make these waters safe for the families of honest folk. His excellency has said—”
“He does what he does for the children,” said First-Rate. “We’ve heard.”
“He will be gracious if you submit of your own volition, but cruel if you foolishly choose the course of escape,” continued the Spanish captain. “I now offer you these terms: surrender now, to me, and I will grant you your lives.”
“You’re giving us terms?” said First-Rate.
“We will let your crew disembark, without arms, on an uninhabited portion of the coast of Jamaica. The weather is pleasant, the native inhabitants, except for the Maroon tribes in the interior, mostly subdued, and a man, if he is willing to sweat, can earn a living off of the land. As for you, Calico Jack Rackam, you must submit to us, and give yourself to my first-lieutenant as prisoner, and journey back to Kingston to face the charges that Governor Rogers, through his associate Governor Lawes, has prepared for you, while we collect our much-deserved reward. You will be granted your life, but must, publicly, confess your crimes, submit to the lash, and swear allegiance to the Governor.”
Rackam seem’d lost in thought. If Governor Rogers and Governor Lawes were indeed marshaling all their forces against us, and had succeeded in recruiting foreign mariners in their cause as well, then indeed our journey seem’d hopeless. Privateers relied on stealth, and, if our ship and crew were well known and expected, then our eventual capture was an inevitability. So this is how it would end! Without honor, without treasure, and living a life at the whim of the hated Rogers!
“Don’t be a fool,” said the Spanish captain. “Surrender now. Trade your dignity for a little life. It may be that, after your confession and punishment, and if you survive the lash, that we may find a place for you here, among us, as a cabin-boy or such, to assist us in the capture of other illegal privateers. What say you to our terms?”
“Your terms we reject utterly,” Rackam said suddenly. And at that, Rackam, with the back of his hand, struck the Spanish captain with a blow to the cheek that resounded so loudly that it sounded like a cannon shot. The Spanish captain lay on the ground, holding his jaw, which, from its askew position on his face, seem’d shattered.
“You fool,” he said, and with the words issued dark blood from the corner of his mouth. “You’ll be begging me for quarter soon enough. And your entire rabble of traitors and mulattos and Moors and savages will be clapped in shackles!”
It was then that we saw two more black sails on the horizon.
chapter 24.
We are closest to the void at the beginning of our lives and near the end; at that moment when we first leave our mother’s belly and in those final days before our own children slip our corpse into the womb of mother earth. At the close of our lives, we fear death the most, perhaps because we have seen life and know all too well the difficulty of its proper maintenance, and it thus becomes more precious to us. At the start of our lives we are half in love with death, for it represents the one time we were truly safe, when we were swaddled in the flesh of our parent, and had no fear or want for anything. What delicious contradiction that those who have the least of life hold it most dearly, and those who are so full of life, the young, treat it with the least care!
In my youth, death was my constant companion, and he was not an unwanted one, but a beloved, invited guest. By my faith, when the twin galleons were spott’d, my heart soar’d when
I realized there was a battle afoot. Existence, to me, seem’d too ordinary to bear without the challenge of mortality. Great things required one to risk greatly. “Ride or die, sea-dogs!” went Read’s cry, and I smiled at the thought of confrontation with our foe.
“Time is running out,” said First-Rate to Rackam. “We must hold council and decide on a course of action.”
And so, after locking the galleon’s crew in a hold, Rackam and his officers debated strategy. There was little time for the ordering of the battle, and even less time for fear. Our cause, of course, was hopeless: there was little a schooner such as the Will could muster ’gainst the two mighty craft that were bearing down upon us. From the size of them, each of the black galleons probably boasted one hundred guns, and crews of eight hundred men or more. They looked like vast floating, fortified cities, populated by legions of armed residents. We were outgunned and outmanned— but perhaps not outmanuevered. Zayd joined our ship’s councils and made it known that he had something to say.
“Surgeon,” said Rackam, “your skills are not yet required— but they surely will be.”
“It is not the medical arts I have come to discuss,” said Zayd. “I have some experience that might be of use in our current situation. I served on board a vessel under the command of De Graff in his later years.”
“De Graff!” said Hunahpu, who had been listening in on the councils. “The blond, blue-eyed sea-dog! The greatest privateer of them all!”
I smiled at Hunahpu’s words. So Zayd served with De Graff— that was how he knew the truth of the privateer’s woolly hair and dark eyes for his song. Zayd, as it turned out, also had a plan, which he shared with the men. He said it was a combat scheme outlined once by De Graff but never employed in battle. It was a bold proposal, and laden with peril. It is certain Zayd’s approach would have been rejected had Read not championed his strategy.
“The chances of Zayd’s plan working are slim,” said Rackam.
“The chances of us perishing without it are greater,” answered Read.
“I am inclined to take wise risks, not wild ones,” said Rackam.
“Time is running out,” said First-Rate. “We must decide on a course.”
Then Read made his move. Approaching Rackam, he swiftly pried the captain’s familiar black die from his hand and threw it into the drink.
“Chance be damned!” said Read. “We rule ou
r own fate this day. I say we follow Zayd’s plan. Only ingenuity and courage will save our hides this time.”
So, after this exchange, Zayd’s approach was adopted and set into action.
The first, captured galleon was sent back in the direction of her sisters, her colors raised, her crew and captain imprison’d in the hold. The Spanish captain muttered what seemed to be oaths and curses as he was ushered below, but, because of his broken jaw and his Spanish, he was not understood by me and likely not comprehended even by his own men. Rackam, Read, and I, along with a skeleton crew from the Will, stayed on board the Spanish ship to man her. First-Rate went back to the Will and sail’d her northwest, away from the other two Spanish vessels, which were fast approaching. As the Will sail’d off, we fired a few shots at her, being careful not to actually strike her.
“If our ruse works,” said Rackam, “they’ll think the Will turned tail.”
“And when we sail up to them in one of their own ships, we’ll broadside ’em both!” said Read.
“But if our subterfuge is recognized,” I said, “we’ll be sunk for sure.”
Rackam said nothing, but Read laughed at the thought of our destruction.
“Do you want to live forever?” Read said, and he kissed me playfully on the cheek.
“Stations for stays!” Rackam cried out.
Our small crew of men scrambled to find their places on the unfamiliar ship.
“Ease down the helm!” said Rackam.
The Spanish ships were now approaching; one would pass starboard, another larboard. They were monsters, both of ’em, floating castles of wood, clad partially in iron armor, their thick masts rising from their decks like a mighty grove. I could see members of their crews scurrying about the deck, tending to their chores, the rigging, the shrouds. The wind had picked up and their sails blew full.
We sailed still closer; Rackam displayed not a hint of anxiety as he held the wheel and stood at the helm. I wondered: could the opposing crew, at this close distance, see that we weren’t Spanish? We had not had time to strip the officers of their uniforms and so we manned the ship in the more flamboyant garb associated with privateers. My mind continued to speculate: did the trinity of ships have some secret code by which to communicate distress, or whether the craft in question was friend or foe? We had not press’d the Spanish captain for details on his hailing procedure and thus were relying entirely on instinct and guesswork. Read had taken his station at a cannon and, as we approached still closer, Rackam gestured for me to take a place at a gun as well. As I went to my position, I noticed Rackam’s knuckles as he grasped the wheel were very white.
“Man your guns,” he said. “Ready for my signal.”
Closer now, we flew high our Spanish colors as we sailed between both ships; we leaned ’gainst the railings and, with broad smiles, we waved merrily at the crews of the other two vessels and, with much cheer, they waved back. Rackam held his hand up— his signal would come soon. Ah— the faces of the crew on the passing ships were showing signs of incredulity. A few crew members called out strange phrases to us in Spanish, and we did not answer, unsure of what was said and what the response should be. Our clothes, no doubt, were as suspicious as privateer colors; our faces, too, would seem foreign to these men from Madrid. I could hear that voices were beginning to be raised on either ship. Rackam quickly called for crew members of the Will with origins in Spain to take their places at the railings, show their faces, and call out to their countrymen in their native tongue. Ahh, there was hidden strength in the patchwork nature of this motley crew!
“At my command!” said our captain.
At that, Rackam brought his hand down. We fired all our guns, starboard and larboard. The air was filled with cannonfire and, following that, the screams of men. By my faith, it sounded like sweet music to me! In the smoke and confusion of the moment, we employed our grappling hooks and pulled both the ships within boarding distance. Now the Will had turned about and was joining the fray. After laying down boarding planks, I was the first aboard the ship to larboard and, as I stepped on deck, I drew my cutlass and my dagger. I hoped that bravado would be worthy substitutes for my lack of skill.
“Ride or die!” I cried as I charged.
There is a poetry to combat that is wholly unknown to those who have known only the prose of peace. The world moves to a different meter, and time slips its usual boundaries. For cowards, I reckon, the moment seems stretched and unbearable, and the dangers overly prolonged. For the brave, battle is like the act of love, in that it seems to last forever and yet not long enough. Details appear’d to me in the struggle, as in a still life closely observed: the craftsmanship on a sword-hilt, the sound of the footsteps of a man attacking from the rear, the sea green eyes of a Spanish soldier who had been shot through the throat. The first man I assaulted by feinting to his left and slashing his right arm; he dropped his weapon and yielded— I kicked him in the shoulder and he toppled over into the water and likely drowned. Next, I parried the attack of a bulky deckhand who swung at me with a wooden board from behind; I slashed at his eyes and, when he dropped his plank to tend to his wounded face, I ran him through the belly. The third man I killed was readying his musket when I hacked his right leg and then plunged my cutlass through his chest. I looked him in the face as he bled, grievously, and was surprised to see no hatred there. Indeed, tho’ I held him on my weapon stuck through like a pig, his thoughts seem’d far off, and I was invisible to him.
“Mi carino . . . mi amor . . .” he said.
Who was he calling out to? I wondered if he had family of some sort or if he was in the grip of some death vision that made him spout nonsense. A fly buzzed by my ear at that moment and I focused anew on my task. I turned my blade, and thus shredded the Spanish sailor’s heart.
The Spanish fought hard and with some honor, but they did not fight long. The ship was designed for intimidation and, once boarded, its crew lacked fighting discipline and strategy. Our men were well tutored in the fighting methods of the Spanish, but our opponents were confused and frightened by the myriad approaches the members of our versicolored crew took to the battle. Rackam also made it known that the crew of the first ship was held hostage, including the captain, and that they would all be slaughtered in a most unmerciful fashion if resistance continued. This sway’d a goodly portion of the second and third crews. Rackam also made ’em the sea-dogs bargain: those who would join with us, would share in a portion of the booty we stole. Had the Spanish fought us, and continued hard, there is some chance they would have prevailed, being in by far the greater number. But in his last argument, Rackam was persuasive.
“Come now!” he shouted. “Join us and share in the toil of your sweat! In your ships you have the treasure of kings and yet you return to Spain to live like pawns! I am John Rackam and I am known as a man of my word! Join us and live as kings— or fight us and die like dogs!”
And thus the battle soon ended, with a number of casualties in the opposition, but no deaths on our side, save two hands who fell from the riggings. When Rackam announced the battle was finished, and had the privateer’s Black Flag run up the poles of all three ships, a cheer went up from the men of the Will, and a fair number of the Spaniards, both the wounded and those few who had come over to our company, joined in the acclamation.
Our haul was bigger and grander than we had hoped or even imagined. Gold bullion, precious stones, and silk were all among the cargo. There were thirteen chests of gold coins, eight hundred pounds of wrought gold, and twenty-six tons of uncovered silver. There were also many dozens of hogsheads and puncheons loaded with spice and a variety of precious contents, and many barrels of wine, beer, rum, and other spirits. The men walked through the holds of both ships amazed, laughing, crying, bursting into spontaneous jigs and dances, giddy with our good luck. Rackam clasped Zayd’s hand in congratulations and, deeming that form of laudation insufficient, subsequently took the Moor into his arms in a full embrace.
Ev
en as the goods were being transferred from the Spanish ships into the hold of the Will, the celebration commenced. The men, having waited so long for such a prize, fell almost immediately into a celebration so wild and unrestrained that even Rackam found himself unable to check their passion and, instead, lifted a bottle of Madeira wine and saluted his men with a long quoff. ’Twould have been easy for the Spanish sailors, their guards soaked with wine, to have mounted a mutiny or escape, but the bulk of the captured men, having been pressed hard by their officers while in service, now reveled in witnessing ordinary men enjoying spoils and join’d the jubilee. Even First-Rate, normally a reserved soul, participated in the merrymaking, dueting with Read in a loud and boisterous song.
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